


How to win at chess – and anything else

by Hypatia_66



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Chess, Gen, THRUSH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 06:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18986827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: LJ Short Affair challenge. Prompts: move, provoke, brownSun Tsu's The Art of War: "All war is based on deception." ... "The clever combatant looks to the effects of combined energy, and does not require too much from individuals. Hence his ability to pick out the right men and utilise combined energy” ...Waverly plays a good game of chess.





	How to win at chess – and anything else

============

“Alexander, good to see you.”

Waverly rose to shake hands and gestured to the board in front of him.

“White or black, Eric?”

“I’ll play black.”

Eric waited to see what Waverly’s opening gambit would be. Hmm. Ruy Lopez. Alexander was a great one for creating a false sense of security among black’s pieces. If he didn’t watch him carefully, Alexander would now send his knights and bishops into deceptive formation from which to attack black’s king before Eric had a chance to protect him.

He’d been here before.

However, he was a wily player up to all such underhand ploys and despite using the Caro-Kann defence he spotted a tricksy move which placed a hapless black pawn under threat from both white knights. He was about to move the neighbouring black pawn to protect it but stopped. By doing so it would open up the path for Alexander’s queen to check black’s king. Damn – wily Englishman.

Alexander’s two knights, accompanied from time to time by a mobile bishop, continued to work together creating situations in which one or other of Eric’s pieces was trapped, and until he had no piece capable of moving to protect his king.

“Okay, I give in, Alexander. You are a master deceiver.”

“As SunTsu says in The Art of War, ‘all warfare is based on deception’.”

“And no doubt that is the model for how you urge your agents to act?”

Waverly smiled ruefully. “My dear Eric, you know my agents, so you know that persuading them to make the moves I want them to make is a matter of luck, not careful calculation.”

“That’s a little unfair, Alexander. Judging by the results I’ve seen, they’re either very lucky or they’re better at calculating than you give them credit for.”

Waverly sighed. “Among the more gifted agents, yes indeed. Solo, for instance, relies on luck, Kuryakin is more calculating – but they are both good at deception. The rest are good agents doing a solid dependable job – very reliable, and they generally obey orders.”

“And which would you say are the more successful?”

“Ah. When they work in a team, all those qualities are required – I admit that much.”

<><><> 

“You know what Waverly said, Napoleon.”

“I know, and I don’t think it’s going to work. If we do what he ordered, we’ll lose this game. Between us we can corral these clearly less-than-well-trained goons into that corner – and then we’ll have them.”

After some discussion of tactics among the three, they agreed that Illya would place himself in an exposed position to provoke fire and reveal the positions the Thrush agents held, while Mark and Napoleon would wait until they had taken the bait and there was a clear run to get behind them and end the business.

It worked well until Illya slightly miscalculated and was winged so it was Slate who rushed into the breach to menace the Thrush nest.

“Are you OK, Illya?” he called softly from the shelter of a garbage can.

“I’ll live,” came the reply through gritted teeth.

While Slate held the Thrush men in a fire fight, Napoleon made a dash unobserved through the shadows. He saw one goon fall which left three others who appeared to have little idea of how to respond to the changed positions of their foes. They certainly had no concerted plan of action, unlike the UNCLE agents; they had merely waited to see what would happen next. A feint by Mark Slate gained their undivided attention once more, providing yet more cover for Napoleon. Then there was silence.

<><> 

The three remaining Thrush agents stopped firing. Everything was still. They began to relax and risked stretching themselves from their cramped positions. “That went well,” said one.

“Yeah. We got both of ’em.”

“I thought there were three,” said one sceptic.

“Yeah? Maybe we got him first, or he ran away. We definitely got two just now. There’s no-one left.”

“Okay, let’s get back to the truck and get it to Thrush Central.”

“Who’s got the keys?”

“I left them in it.”

“There are orders against doing that.”

“Ah, hell, who cares?”

As they spoke, they scene was illuminated by the lights of the big truck. Its engine roared and as it bore down on them, they jumped out of their positions and fled – straight into the arms of the two men they thought they had killed.

<><><> 

The three agents presented themselves in Waverly’s office next morning expecting to gain brownie points: Napoleon jaunty, Slate complacent, Illya with his arm in a sling.

“I take it your wound is not serious, Mr Kuryakin?”

“A flesh wound only, sir.”

“Good. Now, the weapon you captured was much more dangerous than we thought. It is armed with radioactive materials…”

His agents looked at each other a little apprehensively.

“But tests show that it has not leaked – so you need not fear contamination.” He looked at them now a little fiercely. “You did not, however, follow my specific orders – what have you to say for yourselves?”

Napoleon spoke firmly. “With respect, sir, you weren’t there to give orders when the position changed. I took it upon myself to organise our attack.”

“During which Mr Kuryakin was injured.”

“And was backed-up by Mr Slate with whom he was nevertheless able to apprehend the escaping Thrush agents,” Napoleon looked him in the eye and added, “As to your orders – we followed your often-expressed example, sir, and used deception.”

‘Attaboy,’ thought Waverly. His words, of course, translated it rather differently: “I’m glad to hear it. Well done. You can go.” When they had gone, his craggy glare changed to a slight, smug, smile.

======================


End file.
